


and you got me like ah

by sugarcubeshiro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Episode: s02e01 Across The Universe, M/M, Masturbation, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Praise Kink, Pre-Relationship, Realization of Feelings, Season/Series 02, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Large Cock, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 20:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17331905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcubeshiro/pseuds/sugarcubeshiro
Summary: Closing his eyes, Shiro lets his thumb move further down. His hips want to lift with a particular kind of urgent sensation, burning low in his gut, that he hasn’t felt since before leaving for Kerberos. Shiro stops his hand at the hem of his pants, resting there while his lips part, and his breathing turns heavier when the image of a certain someone’s face appears at the front of his mind.No.He immediately squeezes his eyes more tightly shut.No.





	and you got me like ah

The space hologram reflecting at the ceiling and down the walls in Shiro’s room at the Castle of Lions lights up as a shooting star sails across the artificial night sky.

“Make a wish, I guess,” Shiro murmurs to himself where he’s lying on the bed in nothing but sweatpants, left arm propped behind his head while his Galran one rests on his stomach. The hologram usually helps for sleepless nights, when he has too many thoughts running wild in his mind and Shiro needs to force himself to at least _try_ to relax. Often this kind of restlessness is cause for more concern, memories pulling something tight in his chest and making his body want to fight, but tonight...

He strokes the cool material of his cyborg prosthetic at the side of his waist, touching the bump of the three thick lines there.

The scars, already faded from the time Shiro spent in the healing pod, are all that’s left now from the wounds where the witch had clawed his skin open.

Closing his eyes, Shiro lets his thumb move further down. His hips want to lift with a particular kind of urgent sensation, burning low in his gut, that he hasn’t felt since before leaving for Kerberos. Shiro stops his hand at the hem of his pants, resting there while his lips part, and his breathing turns heavier when the image of a certain someone’s face appears at the front of his mind.

No.

He immediately squeezes his eyes more tightly shut.

_No_.

Letting his eyelids flutter open again, Shiro stares up at a sky that isn’t real, and tries to pretend that his dick isn’t getting hard from thoughts of _Keith_.

He groans in frustration and turns his head towards the pillow. The movement and shift of his body only makes it all worse, though; even feeling the material of his sweatpants drag across his crotch is agonizing.

“Fuck,” Shiro mutters and frees his left hand from where he’s resting on it to shove it down his pants instead. He grips himself tightly, giving in to the natural need of his body by wrapping his fingers around his cock, and starts to stroke himself fully hard.

God—it’s been so long.

It’s been _so_ long since anything like this even crossed his mind. Shiro shudders out a breath and tries his best to hold back the whine that wants to slip out when he thumbs at the head of his dick.

It’s been so long since he made himself feel _good_.

Only two days ago, Shiro had been certain he would die that same day. If he wasn’t mauled to death by giant lizards, then what he had to look forward to would be bleeding out from an infected, glowing wound at his side that didn’t seem to stop trying to rip his skin—slowly, so slowly—further and further apart.

Shiro’s life just continues with its theme of being an endless loop of lovely options.

He remembers the adrenaline rush of being so sure that he was done for—thinking he should have felt more used to it by now, but no situation in his life had ever seemed so hopeless before. Even in the arena, at least Shiro could defend himself and fight with a chance, no matter how slim those chances stayed each time he was thrown into the ring. This time, though, there had been nothing more he could do. Nothing left for Shiro in his life, except the short wait as he braced himself for the impact of sharp teeth clawing him apart when one of the huge lizard-like creatures pounced on him. He’d lifted his hand weakly, in some sort of instinctual protective stance, before—

Black showed up, a flurry of movements following the Lion’s arrival. Shiro gasped in shock and stared as she squished the creatures like small bugs under her giant paws, fighting them off for him. He barely had time to register what had happened, questions zapping through his mind so fast he felt dizzy with it. Shocked and confused as he wondered if his lion had come to save him, because—Shiro didn’t know that they could actually _do_ that? Fight a whole fight on their own—

His arm had gone up again with a shout when something alive and moving showed up at his side, but when Shiro looked over, it was only to find Keith crouched there next to him.

“Are you okay?” Keith had said and wrapped an arm around Shiro’s shoulders while he cupped Shiro’s cheek with his free hand. Keith’s helmet was off, his black bangs a sweaty mess, and his eyes wild and worried as they flickered up and down Shiro’s body.

Shiro had sat silent and stunned, and stared and stared, sure that he was truly losing his mind—because all he could think of was how beautiful Keith looked. Like Shiro’s own rugged angel of protection, showing up yet again to be his personal miracle, fierce and furious if someone tried to harm him.

“Keith,” Shiro had finally managed to rasp out. “Keith, you—you saved me.”

Keith blinked at him, like he hadn’t even thought of it like that, and then he smiled. “I just helped with the final bit,” he said, voice soft but still looking worried. “Of course I did, Shiro. Are you okay? Did they get to you? You don’t look that great.”

“I’m fine,” Shiro immediately wheezed out, despite how he was covered in sweat and blood, and felt two seconds away from passing out. Still, he’d tried to stand. Keith hadn’t done anything to stop him, only got up with him to gingerly hover at Shiro’s side. Shiro only managed to take two steps before his knees went out, though, and then Keith—

Keith had fucking lifted him.

Just scooped Shiro up like he weighed no more than a poor man’s bag of groceries, and then he kept holding him like Shiro was a bride about to get carried over the threshold.

“Hold on tight,” Keith told Shiro while Shiro could only stare wide-eyed at him. His arms automatically came up to clutch at Keith’s shoulders, and whatever Keith saw in Shiro’s face must have made him embarrassed, because he’d quickly added, “Sorry, I’m just, uh—trying to make sure your wound won’t get any worse.”

Shiro shudders out a breath as he thinks back on it now.

The memory of Keith, walking them up the ramp leading inside Black, to gently put Shiro down in the pilot seat so they could go get Red, too. Keith had crouched down next to him again when Shiro was settled, and lifted his hand to stroke Shiro’s bangs back. Once again Shiro had stared—and stared, and stared, and _stared_ —because sure, he knew that Keith was older now. Shiro had missed both Keith’s eighteenth and nineteenth birthday while he was gone, after all. But when the hell had the sight in front of Shiro happened?

When did Keith turn into someone who could carry Shiro with the kind of ease that shouldn’t logically work, given both of their build, even though Keith is far from fragile or weak?

Then again—Keith has always done a lot of seemingly impossible things by determination alone.

Like flying Shiro’s lion to save him.

Or telling Shiro that Shiro’s going to make it, and make him want to believe Keith.

That’s always been the thing with Keith. Shiro has never been surprised by his accomplishments, never thought that Keith wasn’t capable of something—not when he knows that there is no one with more potential than Keith.

No, what truly shocks Shiro about Keith, is the guy’s unwavering faith in _him_.

Like Keith really, truly does think that Shiro is all that.

Keith, who is the only one around here who knows that Shiro would still be living on borrowed time even if they weren’t fighting a war. Yet he never acts like it makes Shiro any less. Keith, who’s evidently still staying so forcibly determined and devoted and encouraging, even now. Stepping in to help when it’s needed, but never assuming that Shiro can’t make it on his own, or that he can’t take care of himself. Somehow, Keith never makes Shiro feel suffocated from his caring.

Keith, who is one of so few people in Shiro’s life that has learned the secret of how Shiro is actually a person with countless flaws, but still Keith has never indicated that he thinks anything less about Shiro, or that his illness defines him.

Shiro groans into the side of his arm while he jerks himself off, and thinks of Keith. Of Keith’s big, pretty eyes, his handsome face, and strong, lithe body—muscular and toned, yet so much smaller than Shiro himself. He desperately tries to tell himself to think of something else, anyone, _anything_. Something faceless and vague. The memory of a porno that Shiro always liked would be better than the images currently filling his mind. He shudders out a shaky breath as his thoughts move onto a nameless actor on his knees instead, and Shiro lets the fantasy run free. An eager mouth dropped open and long, tousled hair gripped by big hands. Loud moans and wet, nasty noises filling the room as the guy held firmly in place takes it all, takes the cock fucking his face, before—

The thought of _Keith_ , kneeling before him, fingers digging in where he’s gripping Shiro’s thigh while he’s drooling and moaning and whimpering around Shiro's huge—

Shiro gasps, clutching a hand in his own hair, grabbing it so hard it hurts. He hisses as he stares up at the stars in the ceiling, the hand around his dick frozen in a tight grip while he tries to catch his breath. “What the fuck is _wrong with you_?” he growls out into the silence of the room, and squeezes his eyes shut again before he thumps his head back against the mattress.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

What the fuck _is_ wrong with him?

Keith’s his best friend.

…and they’re out here, alone in space, fighting a goddamn war. Everything is more than a little fucked up, so maybe—maybe that’s all there is to this. Maybe Shiro is just latching onto the one thing, the one person, who is close and familiar, and who is offering the slightest sense of normalcy and a lot of security. Keith has always felt safe, and comforting, and a lot like love. Even if it’s never been—no way it would have ever been—in _this_ way before.

Still, Shiro can try to rationalize it all he wants; tell himself how there’s nothing weird about him wanting a guy who is close to twenty by now, but god. Keith is his _best friend_. That should be the reason for why Shiro _can’t_  do this, not what he uses as a justification for why he’s doing it.

But it’s been so long, and his body wants this so bad, and it’s not like Shiro has anything else to turn to.

Let it be the first official statement Shiro makes if he ever makes it back home to Earth and the masses want to know what secrets he has discovered:  _there is no porn in space_.

Shiro rolls over to press his face into the pillow for a moment before he gets up on his hands and knees. Bracing himself on one forearm, he curls his fingers around his hard cock again.

Maybe—maybe he can do this, to just... get it out of his system.

He’s never even jerked off in this place before. It probably really is just his mind going a bit crazy from everything that’s happened lately, combined with how long it’s been since Shiro had anything stir this kind of need in him.

Tugging his sweatpants down to his knees, Shiro spreads his legs before he reaches back to tease at his hole. His breath catches, as if the dry press of his own two fingertips is something heavenly; just what he’s been missing in his life this whole time and what will solve all of his problems.

Fuck.

Shiro bites his bottom lip.

What he wouldn’t give to actually have Keith with him right now, here in his room. The thought alone is enough to make him whimper, but he still reluctantly drops his hand from his ass.

Keith’s _not_  here with him, and there isn’t much Shiro can do on his own without lube—not the way he wants it, at least—so he goes back to focusing his attention on his dick again.

He probably shouldn’t draw this out, anyway.

This time Shiro doesn’t bother with trying to shove his thoughts away. He lets his mouth fall open, gasping into the sheets while he strokes himself with an already desperate kind of urgency, and freely imagines that it’s not his own hand his cock is enveloped by, but a tight, sweet ass clenching around him instead.

Would Keith let Shiro fuck him? 

Get on his knees for Shiro?

Would Keith be responsive and eager for everything Shiro wishes he could do to him, accept and want the ways Shiro wants to make Keith feel good?

Keith always touches him with such an ease, always lets Shiro hug him—always relaxes around him in ways that Keith never does with anyone else. Would Keith be soft and sweet, trusting and laughing, sharing deep and filthy kisses with him if Shiro had him beneath him on these sheets too?

Shiro fucks into his own fist with a whine. He thinks of the way Keith’s voice lowers when he’s tired, the rasp of it as sharp as both Keith’s jaw and personality combined, and how deep the sound of it is nowadays.

Would it pitch or drop if Shiro touched him the right ways?

Would Keith still be teasing and playful and competitive, could Shiro get him to call him ‘ _Sir’_ in that half-mocking way that Keith sometimes does? Would Keith be demanding too, shove at Shiro’s shoulder before he tightened his grip on the muscle there, to push Shiro down his body—would Keith tangle his fingers in Shiro’s bangs when Shiro used his mouth on him, desperately fuck Shiro’s mouth while Shiro sucked Keith’s cock before he pulled off, and Keith just kept begging for Shiro’s tongue to get even _lower_ —

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro moans, the fingers not on his dick curling and clutching at his pillow. He grips the fabric tight as he feels himself get close, so lost to thoughts of Keith’s long legs and the shape of him in nothing but his undersuit. How fucking amazing Keith’s ass looks, even if Shiro has never even been able to admit it to himself before.

But oh god, the thought of getting to _have_ him—

For a moment, Shiro desperately wants to know if Keith does this to himself. If Keith jerks off while thinking of  _him_ _._ He wonders if Keith plays with his own ass while he does, if Keith likes it, how many fingers he wants. If Keith’s lying in his room right now, whimpering pathetically to himself while pushing back into the touch, because his own hand isn’t enough, he needs something—no, he needs _someone_ , so much _bigger._

Fuck, would Keith like that? How big Shiro is? Would he spread his legs for Shiro and beg him to put his fingers in Keith’s ass? Would he let Shiro get his mouth on him too?

Shiro would do anything if it meant he could spread Keith’s ass open and get his tongue inside him, make it so good for Keith while he opened him up for his cock. Only to hear Keith beg for it once Shiro pulled their bodies close, lined his dick up and started to push inside, before he finally, _finally_  fucked Keith. Shiro would give him anything he wanted, make it perfect for him, get Keith fucking sobbing from it. Fuck him while he listened to Keith gasp and cry for more, faster,  _harder—_ moaning shamelessly over having Shiro so deep inside him, while Shiro just held him in place and took him apart in ways that Keith has probably never felt before.

Shiro can’t keep his noises down, trying to muffle it into the pillow while his mind races through every filthy thing imaginable he wants to do with Keith.

Most of all, though, right now—he wants Keith on his back on this bed while Shiro straddles his chest. Getting to hold his face when Keith’s mouth drops open for Shiro to push his cock between Keith’s pink lips. Sliding deep inside that pretty mouth, while Keith flutters his eyes shut and moans around him like Shiro’s dick is the best thing he could ever imagine getting to taste. Seeing Keith glance up at him with heavy eyelids as he opens up for him, trying to take Shiro as deep as he possibly can, while Shiro gently strokes Keith’s cheek and cards his fingers through Keith’s soft hair. Murmuring his praise for how beautiful Keith looks, what a good boy he’s being, while Keith whimpers for it and lets Shiro in even further. 

Shiro knows he’s big, but—god, Keith is _determined_ like no one else he’s ever met, and there’s nothing Keith loves more than making Shiro happy and proud. He bets Keith wouldn’t even stop trying until Shiro could fuck his throat with ease. Keith would take everything Shiro wanted to give him, he’d _beg_ for it; open up and be so, _so_  fucking _good_ for him—

Shiro comes with a cry, trying desperately to choke down the loud noise, but there’s no stopping the moan ripping through him. He practically sobs while jerking himself through the aftershocks, until his thighs tremble so hard he flops down onto the bed, unable to even care about the mess he’s made. Instead he shoves both of his arms in under the pillow and presses his face to it, hiding there while still panting and trying to catch his breath. He just came harder than maybe ever before in his life, from just his own hand—but he’s barely finished coming down before the shame hits him full force, now when the worst of the previous need and desperation is dulled.

Fuck— _fuck_.

Maybe, Shiro thinks, he can just stay here with his face smushed into the pillow until he suffocates himself. Guilt is still burning at his neck, mixing weirdly with the satisfaction from what he’s just done and the afterglow of something that felt so damn _good_ —but mostly he just feels dirty and filthy in the not-so-fun way anymore.

Because he just came to thoughts of getting to choke his best friend on his dick. 

So... apparently he’s attracted to Keith now.

The one person that Shiro loves more than anyone else.

Shiro swallows as he lifts his head, just enough to get air in through his nose. With half of his face still buried in the pillow, Shiro stares at the starry sky still surrounding the room, and squints his eyes in suspicion at life in general. Maybe if he’s lucky, the hologram can conjure up a black hole to swallow him whole.

He’s attracted to Keith. He loves Keith. Shiro’s heart flutters at the thought of him. And apparently, as he’s just proven to himself with the come drying under his stomach as the most undeniable evidence, he wants to kiss and touch and do even _more_ with Keith.

But—all of those things combined would mean that Shiro is—

Shiro exhales slowly, refusing to recognize what he wants to end that thought with. The severity of it is far too much to deal with.

“ _You’re like, the super hot, really cool but sometimes scarily stern dad of this little ragtag group of heroes_ ,” Lance had said one time at dinner not too long ago, while waving his spoon full of food-goo at Shiro.

Keith had rolled his eyes and told Lance to shut up because that was fucking ridiculous, and if he was looking for a father figure among the people on the Castle, Coran is right there—but still.

Shiro is the leader, and except for Coran, he _is_  older than all of them.

So he shouldn’t be thinking of—

“Doesn’t matter now, anyway,” Shiro mutters to himself before he rolls over and tugs his pants back up. It doesn’t matter, because he isn’t thinking about it.

He gets up from the bed to start cleaning up any evidence of what he’s done, so he can forget that this whole thing even happened in the first place. He’ll change the sheets, wash the come off his body, and the flush on his face will disappear, and then he will go back to never thinking about Keith like this ever again.

After all—this was just something he needed to get out of his system.

The fact that he has no idea how he's going to be able to look at Keith the next time they see each other is just something that Shiro is going to have to deal with when it happens.

How he will ever manage to get his heart to stop fluttering at even the thought of Keith, is something Shiro suspects there might never be any answers to, though.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a combination of my constant need for pining shiro and jk's comment about shiro wanting someone who would take care of him, so *clenches fist* thanks josh
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/sugarcubeshiro)


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